The last wolf haunts Connecticut

John Folsom (Photo by Samantha Henry)

By Gregory Hebert, Rafal Wilson

In the winter of 1742, Israel Putnam shot what may have been the last wolf in Eastern Connecticut to the cheers of Pomfret citizens. In 2009, Connecticut residents often mourn the loss of what they now perceive as a beautiful, graceful predator.

This divide illustrates the differences between a habitat carrying capacity and a cultural carrying capacity, according to Jenny Dickson, a supervising wildlife biologist at the Department of Environmental Protection.

While the threat from wolves is no longer present in Connecticut, Dickson said that the DEP today has to deal with a range of other issues from a growing bear population to the mystery of why millions of bats are suddenly dying.

Putnam’s shooting of the wolf is celebrated at Mashamoquet Brook State Park on a small plaque just outside of a small rocky cave where the animal made its last stand. John Fulsom, DEP park supervisor at Mashamoquet, said that the extermination of the wolves 250 years ago stemmed from their killing sheep and the detrimental effect they had on farmers.

“We romance the wolf because we don’t suffer an economic loss from them,” he said. Other areas of the United States, such as northern Michigan, still support a wolf population and according to Fulsom they are not viewed in nearly the same light. He says that many Midwestern citizens, farmers and hunters alike, would like to see the wolves killed off due to what they do to local populations of livestock and game.

“We look at the plaque and sometimes it’s defaced,” he said, “saying ‘Don’t kill the last wolf.’”

Those detractors from Putnam’s heroism may have a point. The number of deer in Connecticut, once the main prey of area wolves, has climbed so greatly in recent years that they are now considered pests. Fulsom says that in the past, hunters were allowed to kill perhaps one deer per year. In recent years, that number has since climbed to 12.

That same attitude towards wolves is reversed in the case of the monk parakeet, an invasive species that migrated to Connecticut from New York State. A South American bird originally imported as part of the pet trade, the mountain-dwelling parakeets have adapted well to Connecticut’s climate and receive mixed reactions from local citizens.

“People in their back yard tend to hate them, while neighbors tend to like them,” Dickson said. “It’s a species with almost no middle ground.” The parakeets, which resemble large, green parrots, are exotic and colorful. However, they can be noisy pests that nip the buds off of flowering trees and plants, ruin gardens and orchards, and disturb the sleep of many.

Perhaps most dangerous are their nesting habits. “They’re communal roosters,” said Dickson, “meaning that they build ‘apartment complexes’ of nests that can weigh hundreds of pounds.” The parakeets tend to build their nests on tall structures such as utility poles and ballpark stands, severely compromising their integrity.

Utility companies attempt to disturb the parakeet nests at every opportunity.

Dickson says that this leads to a “hydra effect”—the dispersed birds, which imprint on certain structures early in life, will simply start building nests on a similar structure. One disturbed nest can then easily lead to ten more within a relatively small area.

On the flipside, Dickson and other researchers across the country are worried about the effect on the environment should bats, an entirely native species, vanish completely due to white nose syndrome. Dickson says white nose syndrome is a wildlife crisis of unprecedented proportions and is currently the largest problem facing DEP biologists right now. “Phenomenal numbers of these animals have died in the past two years,” she said.

Dickson says that the DEP and other researchers are currently looking into its causes and is working on possible solutions. Part of the work this summer is examining whether the disease has had any impact on bat birth rates.

Very little is still actually known about the disease, including whether the white fungus that shows up in the winter on the dead and dying bats is the cause or a symptom. Dickson says that researchers are fairly certain that humans have helped transmit it. “We don’t really know what it all means at this point,” she said.

Dickson said that the range of wildlife issues is as varied as the number of species, although bigger animals draw more attention. The number of bears in Connecticut is increasing and now number 300 to 500.

And just before Dickson left the office to come to Mashamoquet, her office received a worried call. A young moose had been sighted in a suburban community. The animal may be docile, but automobile collisions can be deadly and soon efforts were underway to get the moose back into more rural areas.

All this shows that the cultural carrying capacity of an environment and its habitat carrying capacity rarely, if ever, match up.